Chapter 73
Susan
Thursday
My phone is still in my hand when it rings, startling me.
“Garda Station” flashes up onscreen and, for a second, I think, this is it.
They’re taking Bella away. I’m an unfit mother, Juliette has reported me, and it’s over.
It wouldn’t be the guards though, it would be social services, right?
So that’s not what this is. Calm down, Susan.
Even with a few deep breaths, it takes me a moment to find my voice when I answer, anxiety drying my throat.
“Hello?”
“Ms. O’Donnell?”
“Yes.” It comes out in a croak.
“This is Detective Kellerman in Blackrock garda station. We have a few more questions about Savannah Holmes—could we ask you to come down this morning?”
“I…I have my baby. I wouldn’t have anyone to mind her…”
“Right, no worries, we’ll go to you. Are you at home now?”
God. Why am I so anxious? There’s nothing to hide. Still.
“Ms. O’Donnell?”
“Yes. I’m here. It’s fine.”
It doesn’t feel fine. It feels the opposite of fine.
· · ·
Detective Kellerman and the young garda from last week are in my kitchen, sitting at my table.
Bella is in my arms, anchoring me, giving me something to do with my hands.
They’d said no to coffee. They won’t be long, apparently.
Just a few questions about the morning Savannah Holmes died.
I swallow and nod. For a fleeting moment, I consider telling them about Bella, that someone was here, that someone took her and put her outside.
But Juliette’s voice rings in my ears. They might have some concerns about Bella’s care. I clamp my mouth shut.
“We have reports of a caller to Ms. Holmes that morning,” Detective Kellerman says, “and we wanted to check if you were anywhere near her house?”
“Me? Of course not. I didn’t know her. We’d never met.”
“You didn’t call there that morning to drop off a package or collect one?”
“No, definitely not.”
“Could you let us know where you were on Wednesday morning last week?”
Jesus. Is this really happening?
“Here. I’m always here.” I dip my chin toward Bella and force a laugh. “She keeps me tied to the house.”
“Is there anyone who was here with you at the time who can confirm that?”
“I don’t—oh, yes! My sister Greta was here.” I’m inordinately pleased to remember this.
“Great, what time was that?”
“From about eight till nine, or nine thirty maybe.”
“And after that? Was there anyone else here with you?”
“No…” My face heats up as I realize I’m lying by omission now.
I was here early in the morning, and Greta was here, and there was nobody else here after—all of that is true.
But of course I did leave then, to drop Bella to Leesa’s and see my counselor.
I should tell them that. Or maybe I don’t since they didn’t ask?
Kellerman is eyeing me, noting the color in my cheeks, I imagine. “What kind of car do you drive?” she says.
This catches me off guard. “Um, it’s a dark blue Ford Mondeo.”
“I see. A dark blue Ford Mondeo was seen parked outside Ms. Holmes’s house on Wednesday morning. Does that ring any bells?”
My face is on fire now. Christ. Answer them.
“I…I can tell you with absolute certainty that I didn’t go to Savannah Holmes’s house last Wednesday morning.”
The rest of their questions barely register. My mind is on only one thing. I didn’t have the car on Wednesday morning, Jon did.